


Irresistible Force

by Missy_dee811



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Porn, Avengers Vol. 5 (2013), Awkward Conversations, BDSM, Bittersweet Ending, Break Up, Canonical Character Death, Divorce, Flashbacks, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Infinity Gems, Late Night Conversations, Light BDSM, Love Confessions, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Morning After, New Avengers Vol. 3 (2013), Non-Linear Narrative, Past Relationship(s), Post-Break Up, Post-Divorce, Reconciliation, Sad with a Happy Ending, Siege (Marvel), Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Tears, The Illuminati (Marvel), Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Tony Angst, Tony Feels, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-13 22:56:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11770149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy_dee811/pseuds/Missy_dee811
Summary: An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. We were always going to be the death of this world.You used to take me apart in a different way.What happened to us?[Written for Stony Trumps Hate.]





	1. Present

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Woad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woad/gifts).



> This is the first of two fics I'm writing for Stony Trumps Hate. 
> 
> Or rather, this is an excuse to write the post-breakup/post-divorce fic I've always wanted to write, featuring such favorites: the Illuminati, the Infinity Gems, the incursions, and time travel.

"Ah, Commander Rogers, so good of you to grace me with your presence. Did the SHEILD agents get tired of your grumpiness," says Tony, searching for the posse he thought would be accompanying Steve. Steve ignores him and strides into the center of the expansive room, to where Tony's held captive.

He hides his head in his hands and when he looks back up again, Steve can see the pool of tears threatening to cascade down his face. "Oh gosh, I missed this. I missed seeing you – seeing you like this. You see, I had forgotten how imposing you can be when you direct your ire at someone else," says Tony.

Once upon a time, it would've stopped him in his tracks, seeing Tony come apart like this, but that was years ago, and they're different men now.

Tony composes himself. He smiles and it's so fake, Steve can’t help but look away. "What's wrong, Rogers? Must be easier to blame others for the shortcomings you share. I wouldn't know. I don't go around blaming others for the things I've done."

"Oh no, you just don't think you've ever done anything wrong in your life –"

"Fuck _you_ , Rogers,” spits out Tony, cutting him off mid-sentence. His sadness quickly blossoming into anger.

“You knew, as the words were spilling out, that that was a lie," he says, quieter now. He looks up into Rogers’ dazzling blue eyes not bothering to hide the hurt, the pain. Steve tenses before him.

_An unstoppable force meets an immovable object. We were always going to be the death of this world._

"I suppose, it's fitting, that I'd be the last one you'd have to approach in this way. So many years I stood by your side, watching you break the resolve of criminals, supervillains, and evil masterminds. I was never foolish enough to believe it wouldn't come to this but... So many things I've envisioned didn't come to pass.”

He pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Steve wishes he could know what he’s seeing.

“I couldn't have known this wouldn't be one of them. You see, I don't enjoy doing this. No, I don't take any pleasure in doing what must be done, but you never understood that. I guess, if you had, so much of our past wouldn't have happened. You just can't stand it when you're wrong. You just can't fathom being...off."

"My goodness, do you ever _shut up_?”

He slams his fists into the glass above his head and Tony flinches.

“I see why _they_ ," emphasizing the last word with every ounce of distaste he could muster, "locked you in this fucking cube. You're...insufferable." The disgust with which he says it hangs in the air between them, palpable.

Tony remembers a different time, when he was pressed against the glass of his penthouse. His hands forced above his head, as Steve bit into his neck, and he came in his hands.

_You used to take me apart in a different way._

_What happened to us?_

"I'm not here to listen to you justify the slaughter of millions –"

"YOU WOULD HAVE US _DIE_ , STEVE," bellows Tony, unable to contain his anger, and the pain hiding just beneath the surface. He stands from where was sitting in the middle of the cube. His earlier scream echoing in the chamber.

"Why can't you understand that these things are bigger than us? _God_ , why is this such a difficult concept? Maybe, it's because you've always been bigger than life, and you can't fucking stand it. You can't stand not being the center of the universe –"

"How dare you," grits Steve, standing before him, separated by an impermeable membrane, disbelieving. "How _dare_ you? You, who would fashion a world in your image if we let you? You, who lead me into a false sense of complacency and then betrayed me. God, I thought so much more of _you_ but I guess that’s my fault, seeing what was never there: a brave man."

Tony stands, frozen in place. The words slice into him.  

One more wound that will never heal, one more cruelty he’ll have to bear. A lifetime flashes before his eyes.

_His palm on a slab of ice._

_Lying in a cocoon unsure if he’d ever wake up._

_Kneeling before a God, drunk and crying, pleading for a chance to make things right._

The tears start falling and Steve instantly regrets having voiced his thoughts but he stands there stoic.

Tony holds out his palm; an instinctive response. Steve’s eyes widen before he realizes the gauntlet is on the other hand.

Tony collapses on the floor, hiding his face in his hands. He’s quiet for a long time and Steve can scarcely bare it.

When he speaks, he’s angry again. No sign of the tears, no sign of the pain, no sign of the deep, lingering hurt Steve knows is still there.

"There you go, thinking you're the center of the universe! As if you’re the only person who’s ever been betrayed. As if you’re the only one who’s ever been _hurt_ ,” his voice cracks on the last word and he hides his head in his hands again. Shaking, involuntarily.

For once, letting the pain overwhelm him.

He runs his gauntleted hand through his hair. Steve watches the muscles in his arm and shoulder. Watches the way they move.

He remembers.

_He remembered biting into that flesh and the moans it would produce. He remembered seeing those hands wrapped around his neck as he watched them in the mirror. He remembered the feel of his shoulders as he pressed him into the mattress._

_He remembered all their intimate moments together. All the shared looks and loving smiles, all the sweet nothings they whispered in the throes of pleasure._

He wishes he could erase those memories and the accompanying pain.

He wishes it wouldn’t have to end like this between them but they were different men once and times have changed.

“That's why we'll always end up in this position, where I'm imprisoned for doing what needs to be done and you lecture me on the reasons why I'm at fault, when last, I checked, I wasn't the sole proprietor of the multiverse. It's fine. I'll take whatever you dish out. I always have. Haven't I?"

He faces Steve, his eyes gleaming with tears, but beneath that, a harshness Steve can hardly stand to see. He tries to remember the warmth he once saw in those eyes.

_They were on the helicarrier, preparing for their trek to Mars. Tony would be staying behind…to work on the Dyson Sphere, behind his back, away from any prying eyes._

_But Steve didn’t know that then._

_Tony had pulled him aside, dragging him into the adjacent room._

_He cupped his cheeks and kissed him, in that desperate, all-consuming way only Tony could, leaving him breathless. When they pulled away, still inches from each other, Steve couldn’t help but stare at the bright ring of blue his eyes became when his pupils dilated._

_“Be careful,” he whispered. Their foreheads touching, their breathing labored._

_“I’ll be back, Tony,” laughed Steve, softly, caressing his cheek. Tony closed his eyes. “I know but, just in case, you never know… This is a war.”_

_“I’m a solider,” said Steve in a tone he meant to be reassuring._

_“I know, and that’s the problem,” replied Tony, running his fingers across his cheek._

_Steve ran his fingers down his neck and across his shoulders. He felt Tony melt at the touch. He wanted nothing more than to take him apart._

_To hold him close and smell_ him _, beneath the lingering smell of his expensive cologne and the metallic scent that’s become a part of him from all the years of suiting up._

_To feel the way his body quakes as he reaches his climax. To soothe him when he wakes in a feverish daze, a cold sweat blossoming across his chest._

_Later._

_There will be time._

He refuses to answer and waits a few more moments, thinking Tony has something to add, before he turns to walk away. Tony looks up just in time to see Steve, with his back turned, at the top of the stairs.

In between labored breaths, he whispers, knowing full-well Steve can still hear him, “Be safe, love.”

Tony doesn’t see the hesitation, doesn’t see him turn to face him.

_He can’t know what you’re thinking, Rogers._

Steve leaves, shutting the door behind him. Leaving Tony with his tears and his thoughts.

 

Days pass. No one visits. Not the Black Swan, nor Reed, T’Challa, or Hank…much less Steve.

All they did was yell at each other and yet, Tony misses his presence. He keeps running over the conversation in his mind, wondering if he missed his chance. Possibly his last chance to try to make things right.

_“I’m not half as good at anything as I am when I’m doing it next to you, and that’s the truth.”_

_They had hugged before the team._

_Later that night, Steve had whispered sweet platitudes as they lay naked on top of the sheets. His hand wrapped around Tony’s neck, his head thrown back in pleasure. A moan escaped his lips every time Steve slid out of him._

_He would come just like that._

_In the morning, when the sun shone through the expansive windows, Steve turned to face the man lying next to him and simply said, “I love you, Anthony.”_


	2. Past

_Resting most of his weight on his elbow, he leaned over. “Good morning, beloved,” he whispered into his cheek as he pushed the hair out of his face. Tony smiled, softly. The way he always did when Steve caught him off guard, be it late in the night, or as it was now: early in the morning._

_“Why ruin a good morning by waking me up?” Tony asked him in between yawns._

_“Mornings wouldn’t be so terrible if you slept at a decent time.”_

_“Steve, we went to bed together.”_

_“I know. I have a photographic memory,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips._

_Tony smiled then, more openly, more aware. He swung the bedsheet to one side, exposing himself, knowing Steve couldn’t help but look._

Voyeuristic _he’d call it when Steve watched him, with those hungry eyes, readying for a feast._

Feast on this _he’d said before turning his head and exposing his neck. Even the smallest, softest bites elicited the best moans. He was always so loud and mouthy and Steve loved hearing every sound._

_“Oh, do tell me more about this photographic memory of yours,” said Tony crawling into his lap. Steve rested his chin on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around him._

“I can’t believe you’re actually tying the knot.”

“Is it really that hard to believe,” asked Steve. He stood in front of the mirror and double checked his bowtie before turning to face Bucky. He caught Sam trying to hide his laughter.

“C’mon Steve… I mean, no one’s shocked you’re marrying _him_. We’re just shocked by the whole marriage thing...”

“Yeah, well,” said Steve.

Bucky laughed. “I thought Urich was going to shit himself when you offered to do an exclusive.”

“They could’ve gone with a better headline than ‘Make Love Not War’ though,” added Bucky standing slightly behind Steve, meeting his reflection in the mirror.

“Steve, I don’t know what you’re so worried about… You think Stark’s going to care what you look like? He’s still going to be singing God Bless America at the top of his lungs. I can already hear that fucker saying, ‘Oh. say can you see’ –”

Sam burst out laughing. “Steve, look what you’ve done.”

Steve was wearing an expression that vacillated between complete and utter shock and mild displeasure. “I don’t know why I asked either of you to be here, you’re both terrible at this.”

“What are you talking about? I gave you a fantasy to think about instead of whatever you’re thinking about,” replied Bucky.

Steve leaned his forehead against the mirror. “The two of you…just go.” He pointed to the door.

“Don’t be such a spoil sport, Steve,” asked a new voice from behind the door, slightly ajar.

Sharon walked into the room and both Bucky and Sam stopped talking. Bucky quickly nodded and headed out with Sam in tow. Sam closed the door behind him but not before meeting Steve’s eyes, reflected in the mirror. Steve nodded and Sam shut the door, leaving Sharon with the groom.

Steve watched her reflection come up behind him.

She looked around the room as she moved. Caught sight of the wrinkled dress shirts haphazardly tossed into the corner, the discarded ties and bowties, and turned to face Steve, eyeing his reflection.

“This is kind of awkward. I’m allowed to say that, aren’t I?” Sharon kept her clutch close to her body, leaning it against her thighs, as her manicured nails tapped on the front.

He turned to face her, backing away from the mirror and closing the space between them. “You’re allowed to say whatever you like. I like when you speak your mind.”

Sharon laughed, softly, turning her head so that her the blonde curls framed her profile. “I could disprove that but what’s the point?”

He dropped his eyes and closed them tight.

She reached for his cheek and he blew out a breath. “I know you’re scared but this isn’t going to be the same thing. This isn’t going to be us all over again.”

“You can’t know that, Sharon,” replied Steve, opening his eyes.

“You’re right, but you can’t know I’m wrong either. A great many things have gone wrong in our lives – not just ours, but all of us. Maybe this won’t be one of them.”

She met his eyes before dropping them. He wanted to reach for her hands, wanted to say something to her, but couldn’t find the words… Didn’t know what words to use.

_What do you say to the woman you loved?_

He hadn’t realized she was rummaging through her clutch until she spoke up and said, “I brought you this.” She paused, her hand still inside, and said, after a moment, “You’re supposed to have something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. In the oddest of ways, you’re all those things.”

She laughed at her own joke.

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He watched the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, and the way the whites of her eyes glistened in the light.

He waited for her to speak.

“I – I thought you might have some difficulty finding something borrowed so I brought you this.” She pulled out a pair of cufflinks. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to wear them but knowing Tony’s penchant for tailoring, you would. Before you ask, these were my father’s.”

She placed them in the palm of his hand. “I’m sure you know how to use them because I don’t.” She smiled when he nodded.

“Thank you, Sharon,” he said, his voice raspier than he had intended.

She patted him on the shoulder as she turned to walk away. He stood, transfixed, staring at the bits of metal in his hand. She was gone by the time he finished looking at the palm of his hand. Only the faintest glimpse of her dress could be seen before she shut the door.

 _Closure_.

He stood before the mirror – this time alone – to switch out the cufflinks he was sporting for the ones she had lent him.

 _At ease, soldier_ he said to himself before turning off the lights and shutting the door behind him.

“Tones, do you need help,” asked Jim, getting off the couch.

Tony was standing before the mirror, struggling with his bowtie. “Yes, please. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.”

Jim smiled a little at that. He moved closer, standing just behind him. “You would think you would know how to tie a bowtie.”

“Priorities, Rhodes.”

“You think they would be, for someone who hosts charity galas –”

Jim made quick work of his hands, undoing what Tony had done, and starting over.

“Jim,” said Tony, unassured.

“So, we’re not talking about the bowtie.”

“No, forget about the fucking bowtie... I’m getting married.”

“Not with a poorly tied bowtie,” chimed Pepper, walking back into the room with bottles of water in her hand. She tossed one at Jim and placed one on the table next to Tony. Taking the seat on the couch Jim had vacated, she twisted open the water bottle and took a sip.

“She’s right,” said Jim, catching the bottle Pepper had thrown at him. “You think Rogers is going to show up with a poorly tied bowtie?”

Pepper chuckled.

“Plus, you can’t chicken out now. You’re marrying Steve Rogers. Think he’s going to take you walking out on him like a sitting duck.”

“I’m not trying to walk out on him.”

“Well, that’s good,” said Jim. Pepper nodded in agreement.

“Jim, you think you would know him by now,” said Pepper, putting down her water bottle. “He thinks Steve’s going to wake up and realize Tony’s a wreck and not husband material and walk out.”

Tony turned to glare at her. “When you say it like that, it sounds patently ludicrous.”

“Oh yeah, it’s only ridiculous when I say it mockingly,” sneered Pepper.

Jim covered his mouth with his hands, trying his best not to laugh.

“Tony, having had the pleasure of working for you and alongside you, I can safely say you’re never going to be less of a wreck than you are now.”

“Pep, we’re supposed to be helping –”

“I am helping,” she said, facing Jim. He shrugged.

Turning back to Tony, she added, “He’s seen you at your best and at your worst. You’re committing yourselves to each other in the best of times and the worst of times. I hope neither of you have to – have to make the decisions I’ve made…”

Jim caught her eye and watched the tears slowly roll down her cheek. He turned away. Tony continued watching her in the mirror, unwilling and unable to stop.

Pepper’s uneven breaths echoed in the small room. Beyond, the distant sound of footsteps could be heard just around the bend.

He turned his attention back to Pepper, who was wiping the last of the tears from her face. “As I was saying,” she started, “It’s never going to be easier than it is now.” She unscrewed the top of her water bottle and took another gulp.

She had drunk half the bottle since returning. Jim hadn’t opened his and Tony’s lay neglected on the table, next to a set of cufflinks – an earlier gift from Pepper – he was waiting to put on.

Tony watched her take a drink, all but emptying the bottle. The sound of rumpled plastic filing the air. He knew what she was going to say before she spoke.

“You of all people should know the first step is the hardest and this? This is the first step.”

He thought back to that kiss they had shared years ago, and wondered, not for the first time, if maybe… Somewhere, someplace… Things had played out differently.

He wished he could apologize, also not for the first time, but he didn’t know where to start, wouldn’t know what to say.

She got off the couch, letting Jim sit, and moved closer. As she approached, Tony started to count her freckles – a distraction and he knew it – and stopped to wonder if he had ever tried to count them before.

She reached out to hug him and he enveloped her in his arms. Kissing her forehead, he pushed her hair out of her face. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She nodded. He pulled away, keeping her within arm’s reach.

Jim placed his hand on her shoulder. She turned to face him. Pointing at his watch, he said, “It’s time for us to go.”

Tony nodded. She hugged him once more before leaving and made her way back to the sofa to get her things. Jim stood before him, hands splayed on his shoulders, and hugged him tightly.

“We’ll see you out there,” he said. Tony couldn’t speak. He just nodded.

He took the cufflinks in his hand. When he turned, Pepper and Jim were walking out, arms linked. She leaned into his shoulder.

Checking his cuffs one last time, he prayed _please, don’t let me screw this up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I've played with continuity a bit. Continuity is a funny thing because multiple stories are always happening simultaneously, so it's hard to know what's happening when. I wanted all the people that were present for Steve and Tony's wedding to be well...alive.
> 
> I set the wedding around the time of the formation of the New Avengers, shortly after the whole incident with Wanda and the destruction of the mansion. I thought it fitting for new beginnings. Also, there were no real rifts between the two at that time. (Those rifts come later, in Civil War.)
> 
> I had wanted Pepper to be the one to give Tony the pep talk though, Janet would've fit the bill. She and Tony did date and they fought alongside each other as Avengers (Pepper hasn't become Rescue by this time, that happens during Dark Reign/Siege). Janet had been married once before (as had Pepper, who married then divorced Happy, then married him again before the events of Civil War, during which he died). Her sadness is two-fold: she's been in Tony's shoes before (unsure about her decision) and a part of her laments not being in those shoes anymore (hopeful newlywed).
> 
> Happy's decidedly alive, though he isn't in the room with them.
> 
> New Avengers would've been around the time Bucky came back from the dead. He's shown to work with Sam, Natasha, and Sharon. Sharon and Steve were together at this time and even if they weren't, they always go back to each other.


	3. Clean Slate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> XVII  
> No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio   
> o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:   
> te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,   
> secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma. 
> 
> Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva   
> dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,   
> y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo   
> el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra. 
> 
> Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,   
> te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:   
> así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera, 
> 
> sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,   
> tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,   
> tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.  
> – Pablo Neruda, Cien sonetos de amor

“How’s Stark,” asked Steve, trying to keep his tone even. _Neutral_.

“I have no idea. Not really,” said the attending physician.

“What do you mean,” replied Steve, inquisitive. He couldn’t help it, concern edged into his voice. He needed to know what had happened. He needed to know how Tony was doing. He needed to know if he was okay.

_Would he ever be okay? Gosh, Tony, what happened to you while I was gone?_

“Cap, the man’s barely been here,” admitted the doctor, reluctantly. “He works until he passes out, sleeps like the dead, then gets up quicker than I can take his pulse.”

Deliberating avoiding Steve’s increasingly hostile glare, the doctor looked at the file in his hands as he spoke. “He’s…alert, his dexterity and motor skills, speech… Two or three seconds we spoke, he was fine. But…” He paused.

Steve waited, giving the man a chance to speak again, but it never came.

“But what,” said Steve, impatient.

“I said you were around. I said you were coming to see him. He just said he needed to get back to work. I… I didn’t say specifically that you—that you died, but…” He trailed off.

Steve, having lost his cool, retorted, “Doctor, what is that status of Tony Stark?”

The doctor sighed and looked at the file in his hands once again. “Has anyone…this hard drive that had mind on it. The backup. Does anyone know how long ago he made it?”

He paused and faced Steve. He knew Steve didn’t have an answer for him.

“There’s data missing. There are things that Tony Stark quite simply doesn’t know,” said the doctor before turning to walk away. Steve stood there. Unsure.

He turned to face the doctor, who was walking down the hall with his head bowed, and asked him one last question. “Where is he, Doctor Lisk?”

 

Pepper was sitting in her wheelchair. The surgery had taken a toll on her and she was still unsteady. She could walk short distances but she didn’t want to overexert herself. Not today. Maria was sitting across from her, sprawled on the sofa, mulling through some old documents. _Busy work_.

They heard footsteps approaching. Pepper knew it was him before he knocked on the door. She had wondered how long it would take him to show up. Had wondered how that would go. Now, she didn’t have to wonder anymore.

Maria stood and unlocked the door. Pepper hadn’t noticed it was closed. Leading him into the room, while he took a quick look around. Pepper knew he was assessing the situation, knew he wasn’t here to talk to them. They had talked earlier.

 

_“Yo, Potts,” said Jim, pulling her out of her reverie._ It was so nice to hear his voice, to see him again _. “Look who we found.”_

 _She dropped her pen and rushed to rub a hand across her face. She had been crying and she didn’t want them to know, didn’t want them to read the traitorous thoughts she had scribbled on some scrap paper._ These words were never supposed to see the light of day _. She was just thinking through her pain. She didn’t mean it._

_She couldn’t mean it._

_“Ms. Potts. It’s been awhile…” said Steve as Pepper rose from her seat, flipping the letter she was writing so Steve couldn’t read it._ What would they think?

_She couldn’t believe her eyes. She should be used to this by now, should be used to the surprises that have become a permanent fixture of her life, but this…this was nothing short of miraculous._

_“Whoa,” she said and pulled him into a tight embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck._ He was alive _._

_“Steve—oh thank God—”_

_Jim, standing to his left, just laughed. “What, we get nothing? The dead guy gets a hug but me and the doc who brought him here get nothing?”_

_Pepper pulled away and smiled at Jim, reaching for him as he put his hands around her waist. “Oh, do shut up—” she started to say but couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. She was crying again. But it wasn’t the same as when she cried writing the letter. She wasn’t bitter and angry now. She was hopeful._

_“I don’t understand,” she said, still shocked. “Why are—not that this isn’t an amazing—why are you all here,” said Pepper, wiping the tears from her face._

_Steve was standing before her, Jim, and Dr. Lisk. “Because Iron Man is in trouble,” said Steve as if it were the simplest statement on earth. The truest fact. As if all the months of fighting, as if all the vitriol that had been spewed by both sides didn’t matter._

It doesn’t _, said a small voice in her head._ It doesn’t _._

 _“And we’re going to bring him back,” added Steve, strong and confident. A testament._ No _, she thought,_ a promise. A promise to do right, to do right by him.

This…this is Steve he loves, _she thought_ , the one he’s loved for years, before this overcame all of them. Before the war, before the infighting, when it was them against the world. The consequences be damned.  

_It occurred to Pepper then that Tony wasn’t the only one who was still in love, that their separation was only that: a separation. It was never intended to last. They would never part ways, not truly. It occurred to Pepper then that maybe, just maybe, Steve had done the things he had done because he loved him too and just couldn’t bear to see it all fall apart, but didn’t know it would get so out of hand… Couldn’t know all the things that would happen._

He didn’t know he was going to die and leave us, leave us with Tony, and Tony…with no one.

_“Of course,” she said, nodding. “Yes, sir,” she said, this time with more conviction. “Room 26, upstairs.”_

_He was making his way out the door, following Dr. Lisk, when Pepper walked back to the desk, and crumpled the letter she had been writing and threw it in the trash, where it belonged._

I’m sorry, _she thought_. You deserved better from me. You deserved better from all of us.

 

“You’re looking better,” he said to Pepper. She nodded. She didn’t feel better today but she knew he meant well.

He walked toward her and sank on the ground next to her. “How is he, Pepper. Really.”

Pepper eyed Maria. What could they tell him? That Tony spent all his days catching up on all the time he had missed? That Tony didn’t want to talk to anyone? That Tony did his best to avoid the company of others? She had lost her husband too, she knew the grief he had been going through. Maria had confirmed her suspicions when she told her she watched him cry when he thought no one was looking, no one was prying into his life.

She didn’t know how to be there for him when he was refusing to speak. Didn’t know how to be there for him when she, too, was grieving. _It had been a mistake_ , she thought, of that night in the Arctic. _I should’ve known better_.

Maria responded. “I don’t know if he’ll talk to you. He doesn’t talk to us. He doesn’t even talk to Jim. He won’t talk to Nat, never talked to Cap—not you…Bucky. Frankly, I don’t think you should be here. I don’t think he’ll want to see you.”

“Well, I have to try,” said Steve resolved to talk Tony despite Maria’s protests.

“Just…be aware. There’s a good chance he won’t want to talk to you, Steve,” said Pepper.

Steve stopped, slowly placing his shield against the sofa, letting it lean against the leather. “I know,” he said, not willing to meet their eyes. “I know, but I have to try.”

“I’m surprised you’re not angry,” said Maria. Steve paused and took a deep breath. Sometimes, she forgot he was still a man, that he still needed to breathe.

“Who said that,” replied Steve. “Who said I wasn’t angry?”

Pepper and Maria both stared at each other. “But if you’re –,” Maria started to say when Steve cut her off. “Just because I’m still angry doesn’t mean I don’t care.” He ran his hands through his hair and he looked so alive, as if the last few months had never happened, as if they hadn’t watched Tony cry during his funeral, as if those images of the courthouse weren’t burned into their retinas.

Steve paused and Pepper could swear his voice shook. “He’s still my husband and I still love him.”

They didn’t press the issue and he didn’t extrapolate any further. _He didn’t have to,_ thought Pepper. _It was clear as day_. He just walked passed Maria, who wore a peculiar expression, one she couldn’t name, and stood by the door. Steve turned to face them and spoke. “You can leave us alone.”

“You sure,” asked Maria. She was second-guessing him.  

“He won’t hurt me,” said Steve, matter-of-factly, as if that cleared up the issue. It didn’t. That wasn’t the issue at hand.

“You’re not the one we’re worried about,” said Pepper meeting his gaze. There was a fierce determination in her eyes. It was why Tony had loved her. He had seen the way he had looked at her, when the possibilities were endless, and they hadn’t suffered loses.

_It’s what he must’ve seen all those years ago, when he first promoted her, long before she became the CEO._

Steve was promptly reminded that Pepper, more so than the he or Maria, had seen Tony look far worse. She had seen men and women take advantage of him and lead him astray. She had seen people kick him while he was already down, and she wouldn’t do that again. Wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen, unable to help.

 _She had given him her heart_ , he thought, and tried not to dwell on that.

For the briefest of moments, Steve wondered if anything had happened between them while he was gone, and they were grieving their husbands.

He wondered if Maria had seen those parts of himself he kept locked away, those parts that revealed that he was always more man than machine. He wondered how much Maria knew about him, how much she had witnessed, if anything at all. Would Tony have let her see his true self?

He locked away those thoughts. Told himself it didn’t matter. Told himself he would’ve done the same thing.

 

Tony was sitting at a computer and wasn’t that a sight to behold. It had been so long since he had seen him sit at a desk and not just work from wherever, as he tuned out everything around him. The world is my desk. I don’t have to be in front of a computer, Steve. I am a computer, he had said. Steve had lamented the death of his favorite tinkerer. The one he used to have to drag to bed by promising a night of passionate sex that never came to be for he was too tired, too wrung out. Steve would put him to sleep, would watch the stars dance across his skin as he rested.

He knew then he loved him more than he could ever express in words or in gestures, loved him more than one man should. He should’ve told him he loved those nights just as much as the other ones, the ones during which they’d whisper sweet nothings in each other’s ears, and make promises they couldn’t know they couldn’t keep.

It had been simpler then and he missed it. Longing.

In the last few months, before his death, after Tony had become more machine than man, he spent most of his nights away. Perhaps on another continent, scheming. Anger bore through him as he thought of the lies, the secret webs Tony had spun in his quest for what…

 _It had all culminated in this_ , thought Steve, with more bitterness than he thought he was allowed. Scattered across the desk were newspapers and magazines, articles in other languages, dating back months. _There are things that Tony Stark quite simply doesn’t know_ , Dr. Lisk had said, but it was jarring to see firsthand how true that statement was.

He hadn’t rehearsed this. He hadn’t prepared a speech. He didn’t know what to say. He knew he needed to do this. Was hoping this was the right thing, was hoping this would still mean something.

“Tony,” he said, quietly, in that way he always had when they were alone, when no one was watching.

He didn’t know what he expected, but Tony spun around, and stared at him as if he were seeing a ghost. _He is_. As if he couldn’t believe this were real. _It is_.

“Please tell me I’m not hallucinating. I don’t think I could handle that,” said Tony.

Steve stood in the doorway, transfixed. Tony stood and Steve couldn’t help but glance down. He was so much thinner than he remembered and his hair… It was shorter than he liked to keep it. It didn’t suit him. The hospital gown did nothing for his complexion either. He looked like he belonged in a hospital, not holed up in a hotel, hoping to relive the months he chose to forget by reading short blurbs and snippets.

 _Why_ , he thought. He wanted to scream it at him. Why did you choose to forget this? Who are you doing this for, Tony?

Tony moved to the side, pushing the chair under the desk, and then leaning against it. He doesn’t want you to see how weak he is. He doesn’t want you to see him like this.

Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have mattered. He wouldn’t have been embarrassed or ashamed.

“I just read about your death and here you are… not dead. Very much not dead,” said Tony, almost laughing. He moved to stand before Steve, who was still in the doorway.

“I’m not a vampire, you don’t have to ask for permission to come in, Steve. I don’t bite,” he said, and there was that fire in his eyes, the one Steve would recognize anywhere.

Tony was tugging his hand and leading him into the room. “You’re not dead,” he said once again. Steve nodded. He couldn’t find words, he couldn’t form them. He had thought about this day but not like this.

“Tony…wait,” he said, as Tony ran his hands down his neck and across his chest, warming him. Igniting something in him, something he had thought was dead.

He looked up at the screen, and there he was, splattered across the steps of the courthouse. He had died, that hadn’t been imagined. He had died and Tony had mourned for him. Tony had mourned for a man he didn’t think loved him, a man he thought would never love him again. Yet, here he was. Standing before him and Tony didn’t know. He didn’t know those were the last words they had ever said to each other. Tony didn’t know all the pain they had caused. He just knew what he could discern from reading documents and texts. But those weren’t the only things that mattered.

All those moments, stolen.

He was suddenly angry and he didn’t know who or what to blame but he felt cheated, as if someone had taken a prized possession from under him.

Before he knew it, he had pulled Tony close, running his hands through his hair as Tony grabbed onto his uniform. “God, I missed you,” he said, and he let the tears fall, didn’t hide him.

 _We had it all wrong_ , he thought, as Tony leaned into his chest to hear his heart beat. _We had it all wrong_. As his arms wrapped around his waist. He didn’t say anything about the tears.

 

He didn’t know how long they stayed there like that, with Tony listening to this his silent sobs, as they embraced for the first time in months.

For the first time in months, he felt whole again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dialogue at the beginning is from Invincible Iron Man #21, the second part of Stark: Disassembled. I didn't mean to include so much of the issue but I couldn't help myself.


	4. Resilient

Steve unlocked the door, opening it slowly, and checking to see if anyone was home. He sighed. There was no sign of Tony anywhere. No sign of anyone at all.

 _Of course. Of course, he isn’t home. He’s never home. Even when we agree to these meetings. Even when I’m the one that drops everything._   _Even when I’m the one to fly here, to accommodate him._

_Goddammit Tony._

He walked into the apartment. It smelled of lemon.

The smell invaded his nostrils. It was too clean, too sanitized. As if his mere presence in this apartment were a stain on the white walls, a blotch on the white linens, a raised nail on the polished wood. His fingers would leave fingerprints on the stainless steel. Someone would have to come clean them, wipe them away, erase them from this home.

That was too mundane a task for Tony to do himself. He would have someone clean up after him. Didn’t he always?

Isn’t that what Tony had done when he deleted his memories? When he erased all those months from his mind?

Hadn’t he decided it was too much for him to bear the consequences of his decisions, the fruitlessness of his actions?

How selfish of him, to conveniently forget all the damage he had done, all the mistakes he had made, all the reasons for why they were in this position, with Steve two thousand eight hundred and fifty-four miles away.

_Was that far enough for you?_

His boots clinked as he moved, droplets of water falling on the floor, matching the pattering of the rain on the window, through which you could see that the balcony was wet too, as were the outdoor tables and chairs.

On this rainy afternoon, much of the city was obscured. But Steve knew, from having been here before, that the floor-to-ceiling windows offered a clear view of the Space Needle and the city below. He knew Tony must miss the Tower, must miss the views it offered of the East River.

Steve could imagine him standing here, with Pepper next to him, wondering – either aloud or to himself – would this be enough? Would this suffice until I could go back? Until I felt comfortable enough to return.

Pepper would say, sweetly, in that caring way she said hard truths.  _You wouldn’t have to go back if you didn’t want to, Tony. You could stay here. Make this your home. Start anew._

Tony would scoff, though he knew she knew more than enough when it came to him and starting anew. He would come up with some distraction.  _Pepper, what do you think of the layout?_

Anything that would shift the conversation away from uncomfortable questions he was trying to avoid such as:  _where is my home?_

For a moment, a short-lived moment in time, in that dingy hotel in Oklahoma, they had thought they could move on. They had thought they could put behind them the hurt and betrayal they had both experienced. It had been a nice thought. It had been foolish and oh so erroneous, but it had been nice.

Tony’s guilt didn’t let him sleep. Now, he couldn’t hide in the armor, couldn’t hide behind gold plating.  _King Midas, with his golden touch_ , thought Steve.

He had tried to quell the anger that reverberated through the team in their various meetings and briefings. He couldn’t make them forgive him, couldn’t make them forget. Tony had stopped mentioning what he did or didn’t remember. Had started apologizing for everything without knowing what he had really done, what the other had found so grievous.

Soon, these apologies started to fall on deaf ears. No one cared, or rather, no one wanted to care. Tony Stark had done this to himself. Steve couldn’t help agreeing, for as much as it hurt him. Though – if he was honest with himself – it didn’t hurt as much as he had thought it would.

_If you hadn’t done this, any of this, you wouldn’t be here._

It wasn’t right or logical to think this, to feel this way.

Had feelings ever been logical, had emotions ever played by the rules?

Over time, Tony’s guilt became more palpable. Tasked with shouldering a responsibility he had never wanted, Steve stopped feeling any sort of sympathy, and had started to grow weary of Tony and his sudden sullen outbursts. He knew Tony could sense that for he had started to drift away.

For his part, Steve could still picture his bloody face under his shield every night he closed his eyes. It wasn’t enough to know he hadn’t done it, hadn’t gone through with it. Rather, it was knowing he hadn’t stopped of his own volition. The firefighters and police officers in their vicinity had pulled him away from what surely would’ve been his corpse.

_Tony had begged me for death and I – I had wanted to oblige._

They hadn’t talked much that day, in that hotel. They hadn’t talked much since.

Steve was surprised the press hadn’t jumped down their throats when they had all but announced their separation.

_It wasn’t a divorce, Steve had whispered into Tony’s ear. He drew small little circles on Tony’s back and pretended not to hear his sobs or the way his breath hitched. He could comfort him like this, in this moment, but he wouldn’t be able to comfort him all the time. Wasn’t that the problem? Wasn’t that why this didn’t work?_

_He couldn’t be all the things Tony needed but he couldn’t tell him that, couldn’t let him know his worst fear had come true. I can’t be with you because you’re too much, Anthony. You’re way too much and I don’t know how to be all the things you need me to be and still be me. I don't know if I can._

He hadn’t lied. Not exactly, but he knew that wasn’t wholly true either. It was the end of something, but not the beginning of the end… They had long passed that point.

_I left my husband. Or maybe, he left me. It didn’t matter._

_We couldn’t live under the same roof anymore, couldn’t look at each other anymore…so here he is. Two thousand eight hundred and fifty-four miles away._

Steve walked further into the small apartment. It was much smaller than he had expected when he first came to see it. In time, he came to realize, it was perfect for a man who was never home. Or if he did come home, would only shower and sleep.

He didn’t live here. Didn’t live anywhere.

Placing the keys on the small breakfast nook, he tossed his jacket, drenched from the rain, on the chair. He watched the droplets fall onto the seat, but he didn’t care, no one sat in them anyway. Steve doubted he had guests anymore. Preferring to conduct his business in the office, in his workshop, or just…throwing the responsibility of interviewing onto Pepper’s shoulders. Or Bambi’s.

Surely, she hated that, thought Steve.

He leaned into the cushions on the sofa, turned to look out the expansive windows. The rain, pounding heavily on the patio furniture, wouldn’t let him see as far as he knew he could.  

He took off his boots, tucked the lace – still damp from the rain – into his shoes, and stood again. He walked toward the countertop and immediately regretted his decision. Why had he thought this place would be different? Why had he thought this, of all things, would change?

 

_“Tony, this kitchen is useless,” he said, getting off the sofa and rummaging through the near-empty cabinets. Tony, languorously strewn across the sofa, with a thin blanket covering his thigs and legs, but not much else, laughed. A full-bodied laughed that made something in Steve clench and unclench. Or maybe that was his heart thumping in his chest._

_Either way, Tony always made him feel so much. Too much._

He’s such an exhibitionist _, thought Steve, but he wasn’t offended. Not in the slightest._

_“I don’t cook. No one that comes here cooks. I don’t really need much of anything in the kitchen. You know that, Steve,” said Tony, still laughing._

_Steve shut the cabinet with a thud and Tony glared at him. “Just because it’s useless doesn’t mean you have to break it.”_

_Steve replied, a little defensively. He hadn’t meant to shut the cabinet that hard, hadn’t meant to make that thud. “I’m not trying to break anything, Tony.”_

_“Well,” said Tony, scooting up in his seat, having forgotten why he was reprimanding Steve. He ran his hands across his torso, down his stomach, and stopped before he went too low. “Why don’t you make it up to me?”_

_Steve made his way back to him, knowing Tony was watching him with hungry eyes, watching the way his body moved, the way his muscles worked. He knelt on the floor beside Tony, and rested his arm on Tony’s chest. Their eyes met. Steve’s finger brushed his lips and he spoke, in nothing more than a hushed whisper. “You’re insatiable.”_

_“Yes,” said Tony, dragging Steve into the kiss. “Yes, I am and you love it.”_

 

It was the same foolishness that prompted him to board a flight to Tacoma in the first place.

Steve hated this kitchen. Hated the way it way it looked with its clean lines, white linens, and stainless-steel embellishments. It held none of the warmth of the mansion, then again, nothing ever had.

No one cooked here. The marble was too smooth, too polished. Would Tony have bothered to seal it knowing it would never see more use than when he made expresso in the morning or the middle of the night?

 _Another fragile thing that would disintegrate under acid_ , thought Steve as he looked at the French press in the corner of the island, surrounded by unobtrusive white mugs.

He missed the smell of coconut, missed the smell of metal that clung to Tony like a vice.

 

Hours later, Tony walked into the apartment and spotted Steve’s jacket on the tabletop, the arm strewn across the chair. He sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he closed the door. He took off his shoes as he leaned against the closed door. Picking up the shoes, still wet from the rain, he walked into his bedroom.

It had been raining all day – not necessarily out of the ordinary for this part of the country – but he couldn’t shake off the cold. He felt cold and damp, down to the bone. It wasn’t pleasant and coupled with tiredness, made him edgy. He wanted nothing more than to stand under the shower and let the droplets and steam warm him.

As he approached the bedroom though, he heard the shower going. A small part of him groaned, knowing that meant he couldn’t waltz right in, as he had thought he could. However, he couldn’t help but smile, as he thought of Steve.

_It had to be Steve in there. No one else has keys. Not even Pepper._

Tony had asked him to come and Steve never said no. Or rather, he only said no when the stake of the world was in his hands – as they were prone to be – but things had been quiet lately.

_They could have this. They could have their quiet night._

His thoughts wandered again. He thought of the steam warming Steve’s body. He thought of his flushed skin. He thought of water droplets dripping down his body. He thought of kneeling before him –

He forced himself to think of other thoughts.

If only. If only he could be so lucky. Moments later, the water stopped. Tony heard the curtain part. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he did all he could to seem cool. He wouldn’t turn around, wouldn’t watch Steve, dripping wet, walk toward him.

He breathed in and gathered himself. He would sit on the edge of the bed and undress, avoiding contact with his husband. He wasn’t a teenager – hadn’t been one in almost twenty years – he could keep calm; surely, a gorgeous man wasn’t enough to send him into a panic.

 _Maybe not any gorgeous man, but surely, this one can_ , his traitorous mind supplied.

Steve walked out, wrapped in a towel, using another to dry his hair. Tony turned to face him, compelled by something unspoken between them. Steve watched him. In that way that made Tony intimately aware of the fact that his armor wasn’t stored in the hollow of his bones anymore.

 _Vulnerable_. He felt open and exposed, though Steve was the one in the nude, and he was still dressed.

He was still in his slacks. Half of his undershirt was still tucked in. His belt and tie, both neatly rolled, were lying on top of the dress shirt he had been wearing, splayed across the pillows.

Steve met his gaze. “You’re finally home,” he said.

Then, his hungry eyes roamed Tony’s body, and Tony felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise.

“I didn’t know you would come,” said Tony. It was honest. He had hoped but hadn’t expected to see Steve. He held Steve’s gaze as he spoke. Watched as he moved across the room and around the bed to stand before him. He dropped the towel he had been using to dry his hair on the bed, beside Tony’s discarded top, and let his arms drop to his sides.

“You had asked me to,” said Steve, invading Tony’s space, pushing his legs apart. Tony didn’t mind. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t afford to look at him, couldn’t afford to lose himself in those azure eyes.

_Goddammit Stark, not this time._

Steve caressed his cheek, titling his head up.

“You could’ve called, Steve,” said Tony, having found the strength to open his eyes. He knew, from the way Steve’s lips quivered, that his eyes were more black than blue. Desire plainly written on his face.

Steve leaned down, his hands resting on either side of Tony, as their lips met. Tony could feel as his resolve crumbling. For a moment, Tony forgot he needed to continue to breathe. Before he knew it, Steve had pulled back. He ran his hands down Tony’s thighs and Tony couldn’t breathe.

It had been weeks since they had seen each other and he had fallen apart under his touch in under a minute.  _You need to get it together, Stark._

Before him, Steve said, “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Tony pushed him away. If Steve was concerned or confused, he didn’t show it. But then again, Tony wouldn’t have noticed. His mind was clouded and he needed to get away.

 _Coffee. I need coffee_.

The cold, the dampness in his bones, the exhaustion coursing through his veins hadn’t prepared him for this. Hadn’t prepared him for the full force of Steve’s presence. Hadn’t prepared him for this feeling. He had been thoroughly undone by one kiss and well, that just wouldn’t do.

He started walking out of the bedroom, not expecting Steve to follow, and only slightly surprised when he did.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” said Tony from the hallway. “I asked you to come here. How could you think you were a bother? If you were, I wouldn’t have  _bothered_  to ask. Whatever,” he said putting his hands in his pocket. “It doesn’t matter.”

He made his way into the kitchen with Steve close behind.

“Clearly, it does,” said Steve, keeping his anger – if it were present – under control.  _What a nice change of pace_ , thought Tony, bitterly.  _Suddenly, you’re able to keep it together. Must be nice._

Anger welled up inside of him. He didn’t know from where it came, when moments ago, he had wanted nothing more than to feel Steve’s lips on his, feel his body pressed against him.

He moved Steve’s jacket and threw it onto the sofa. “You’ve been here, what – a few hours – and the place is already a mess.”

“Tony, you need to relax. Can we talk about what’s going on?” asked Steve, moving from where he had been standing by the refrigerator to be closer to Tony.

When Tony didn’t reply, Steve shot back, “You’re a mess.” He pulled his arm, forcing him to meet his eyes. “I didn’t come all this way to deal with your mood swings and not solve a damned thing, Anthony.”

“Oh, so now it’s my ‘mood swings’,” replied Tony. He was shaking with suppressed fury.

“Goddammit Tony,” Steve said, running his hands through his damp hair. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. So, what? Our relationship didn’t work out…that’s not exactly new territory for us. I’m still your friend. Or, at least, I’m trying to be. I’ll get out of your life if that’s what you want, though. Because I can’t keep doing this with you.

“You won’t let me near you unless I can promise I’ll fuck you until you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t walk. But what good does that do when you won’t talk to me?”

Tony avoided his eyes.

Steve reached out, tried to caress his cheek, but Tony moved away. He turned to face the windows. He felt more than heard Steve’s resigned sigh.

“I thought this would be different too. I thought we could make things work. But you work yourself to death so you’ll have something to distract you from the fact that your life is empty. But, whose fault is that, Tony? Whose fault is it that you’re lonely?”

Steve knew he had gone too far, had said too much. It didn’t matter that it was true. This wasn’t the point of tonight, this wasn’t what he had wanted to do. It wasn’t how he had expected to spend the beginning of the weekend. It wasn’t how he thought he’d welcome Tony.

“Steve,” said Tony, quietly. Steve could hear his breathing. Knew he was doing his best to keep the tears from falling. The earlier anger quickly replaced with a deep sadness. Sadness clung to him. Despite all of Steve’s efforts, he had been the one to bring it back to surface.

_If I can’t make you happy, at least, let me be everything but the reason you’re always sad._

Tony turned to face him. He moved closer. Choosing to invade Steve’s space this time. He reached out to touch him but thought that too rash and put his hands back in his pocket. He cleared his throat but spoke with a calmness and a resolve he didn’t feel. “Why did you come?”

Steve took a deep breath.

Tony held up a finger. “Before you answer,” he said, holding his hands up, as if he were wearing his gauntlets. “Know that I will remember this. That whatever you say now, will stay in my mind forever.”

“I came, because I wanted to see you,” said Steve, moving closer. “I…I was hoping it would turn out better than it has.”

Tony shifted on his feet, dropping his hands to his sides, balled into fists. “You come into my home, make a mess. You insult me. And yet, all I want to do is kiss you. Get on my knees and take you, until I’m choking, until I can’t breathe. How do you do this to me?”

Steve’s breath ghosted across his skin, warming him the way he had hoped the water cascading over his head would. Tony hesitated only a second before letting the tension in his shoulders drop, before leaning into Steve’s chest.

_He’s real and he’s here. He’s mine, if I want him to be._

He spoke, quieter now. “You make things so difficult, you know?”

Tony smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I do, because I can say the same thing about you.”

Steve chuckled and wrapped his arms around Tony. Whispering into his ear, he said, “I’m sorry, Tony. I’m sorry this couldn’t be what we had hoped it would be. I’m sorry I can’t be who you need.”  _I don’t think I can_.

Tony nuzzled into his neck, nipping at the skin there. Steve moaned into his forehead and Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “You’re just enough,” said Tony.

But Steve couldn’t believe that.

 

In the morning, when he awoke to the sun filtering through the windows, he groaned. It took him a second to orient himself. Then, the memories came rushing back. First, of their discussion in the bedroom, then in the kitchen. Then, the way he had felt when their bodies touched, when they pressed their lips together. The way Tony had felt beneath him as he thrust into him. The obscene things that escaped Tony’s lips and the delighted smiles they earned from him.

The way Tony rocked his hips and pressed his legs into Steve’s hips and thighs. The way Tony’s skin felt under his touch – warm. The way he arched his back as Steve dug his nails into the muscle in his shoulders.

Covering his eyes with his hands, he turned, shifting onto his right side. He watched Tony sleep. Watched the rise and fall of his chest. Watched the RT and its bright light illuminate his skin. He could hear it too, the low humming. The blanket, barely covered Tony’s hips did, not to hide the bruises. Steve licked his lips. Debated waking him up. Debating flipping him onto his stomach, running his hands down his back, and whispering into his ear, “Good morning, beloved.”

He leaned back, falling onto the pillows again. He didn’t shield his eyes from the sun this time. He sighed. Hadn’t he said he couldn’t do this? Couldn’t just use him and be used by him for sex?

They had talked this time, had said more than four words to each other. Steve didn’t know if that would suffice. They would be fine, until their jobs kept them away again and resentment would brew.

_What if Tony started seeing someone else?_

They were still married, but only on paper. They hadn’t been living together since before Steve’s return, long before the War. He chuckled, coming to realize they had spent more time living under the same roof all those years they had denied their love – to themselves and everyone around them.  _How ironic_.

He loved him, of that, he was sure. It was everything else that confused and confounded him. Could he live with the knowledge that he had almost killed the man he loved? Could he live knowing that man had wanted nothing more than to die in the months he was gone? Could he live knowing that man had caused himself irreparable damage because he couldn’t bear the thought of living without him?

Every time he awoke from a nightmare, he had been dreaming of Tony’s broken nose, cracked armor, and bloody face. Every night he awoke from a nightmare, the only voice in his head was Tony’s saying, “Finish it.”

 _How do you live with someone like that?_  He felt shame wash over him. How do you live with someone who wants to die and can’t feel happiness? How do you live with someone like that and not blame yourself?

He groaned again. It would be so easy to leave. Technically, he had done that.

Yet, he always came back. He had bit off more than he could chew. He was addicted to him. Addicted to his words, his smell, his touch. He couldn’t get enough. He was the most awe-inspiring person he knew. He was dumbstruck by his beauty, his strength, his intelligence.

Yet, it couldn’t be that simple. Had never been that simple. Or perhaps it had, but that was long ago, and they couldn’t go back to that. They could only move forward.

Easier said than done. He knew. And yet, lying here next to him, well-rested, he knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be.

He ran his finger down Tony’s arm, stirring him awake. “Good morning, beloved,” his whispered before pulling him into a kiss.

Maybe they had never woken him. Maybe he was still drowning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continuity-wise, this is set not long after Siege, so Steve is still Commander Rogers. (Bucky Barnes is Captain America at this time.)
> 
> Tony has been busy with his start-up, Resilient, from which the chapter gets its name. He's living in Seattle, it's the location of  
> Resilient's headquarters and where he's spending most of his time. 
> 
> That's all you have to know.


	5. Gravitational Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Someday, after mastering the winds, the waves, the tides and gravity, we shall harness for God the energies of love, and then, for a second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire." – Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

“Can I confess something, Richards?”

“Of course,” said Reed, without hesitation.

It was a cloudless day. _Perhaps, one of the last_ , he thought, grimly. He couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt this way. Couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t stop to think of such things, in such ways. Perhaps, it had been too long. They had been searching for answers. Trying their hand at various solutions. It wouldn’t matter.

He couldn’t say for sure that the sun would rise the next morning. A small part of him wished it wouldn’t for then, that would mean, this would all be over.

There are no victors in a war against time and space, nor are there survivors. They both knew that. They had traveled through time and space enough times to lose count of the various timelines they’d visited.

“We are surrounded by total chaos,” said Steve, motioning to the city before them, visible from the rooftop on which they were standing. “I mean, an all-encompassing disaster of biblical proportions…and all I can think of is him.”

He said the last few words as if they poisoned his tongue, his lips upon departure. As if he were in confessional and this were a sin.

“Tony,” said Reed, simply, for it was true.

“Yes,” said Steve. There was no use in denying the obvious. He had expressed his anger, vocally, more than once.

“I think about it now, and I really don’t understand how I ever trusted him.” The words slipped from his grasp. He hadn’t meant to say it aloud. There was a finality inherent in putting into words a lingering thought. It could freely roam one’s mind, but once exposed… Once spoken, once written… It couldn’t be undone.

One could ask for forgiveness but one couldn’t undo a spell or a punch in the face.

The truth had been laid bare and he couldn’t clothe it.

"I can't speak to your relationship, Steve. That was yours and his," said Reed.

He spoke with a certain calmness, brought upon by experience. If he were watching the waves crash upon the rocky shore from the cliffs above, he would stand before them, a seasoned surfer. Navigating the ocean in its expansive glory, left the rider at the mercy of the seas. It wouldn’t take long before one could spot the beginnings of a storm, miles from the shore. It wouldn’t take long before one could spot the next big wave – the one that would decimate the sandy coast – long before it broke.

He and Susan had split during the war. It had been devastating for both. Susan couldn’t stand by her husband, not when he was moving in a direction with which she disagreed; siding with those she thought were in the wrong.

It had been difficult for her to leave. She left under the cover of night, leaving behind her children. Franklin and Valeria were young then. She couldn’t take them with her, not when she was fleeing for the underground. It wasn’t the place for them.

Steve thought the past seemed so distant now. After all, Susan had sided with her husband this time.

Exasperated, he thought, _but wasn’t this just more of the same? You left him once, what changed?_

Perhaps, he was asking the wrong questions. Perhaps, she had become a different woman. Perhaps, she had seen the error in her ways then. Perhaps, they had worked through their disagreements. Perhaps, she had more faith in her husband than he did in his; still saw him as a hero.

Perhaps she had chosen to ride out the wave, knowing it would crash upon the shore, whether she was ready to walk on land once more, or not.

Perhaps, he was the drowning man.

His mind caught up with what Reed had said and it pulled him out of his reverie.

“–but I can talk about motive, which is where I think all his particular demons lie.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Steve turned to face him. He pursed his lips.

“Despite the past year’s differences – regarding you and me – our motivations are pretty clear. I am defined by my family; the purpose of everything I do can be distilled to back down to that,” said Reed.

Steve nodded. Perhaps, he’s the one that has changed. Perhaps, Susan didn’t have to change. Or better yet, they met halfway.

“And you,” he said, this time turning to face Steve. “You are a good man. You do…good things. Tony, however, is not as simple as us. He’s a future man trapped in the now.”

Steve thought upon those words. He had visited futures decades, centuries, and millennia ahead of their time. In each one of those times, he had thought Tony would fit in. His ideas wouldn’t seem outlandish; perhaps, they were ordinary. His advances wouldn’t seem far-fetched. He would thrive in a community of like-minded problem solvers; tinkerers. Perhaps, he had been the one holding him back, for fear of being lost in the shuffle. Time would leave him gathering dust, and his husband – in his splendid, gleaming armor – would march forward. Self-motivated and determined to succeed.

Perhaps, it was a fear of failure that had kept them trapped in a vicious cycle of deceit. Perhaps, they were scared. If their past showed anything, it was a reluctance to admit their flaws and their insecurities.

He thought back to those nights in Seattle, when the world behind them disappeared as he shut the door. They existed in the now; in the brush of lips and the sound of slacks hitting the floor.

A desperate sort of existence that knew it was fleeting, stretched across infinity. Lasting for as long as time would allow, in this space, where the clock slowed. Where the minutes ticked by as if they were hours not seconds. 

The event horizon.

His lips would graze Tony’s and he’d be lost. Lost to time and space.

They existed in a bubble; a self-contained sphere. Rotating around each other, he was continuously pulled apart by his touches. Tony, the collapsed remnant of a star that had shined bright. Perhaps, too bright.

They pulled each other close. Their passion burned intensely, reverberating through other facets of their lives.

It didn’t matter. They couldn’t be far enough. Their lives revolved around each other, and no amount of space would be enough to keep them apart. Theirs was a codependency from which they couldn’t shy away.

It was all-consuming.

_Maybe, it had been a mistake._

“A prisoner against the slow crawl of human evolution.”

He had kept pushing: pushing his body to extremes, pushing the capabilities of his technology. Steve knew this well, had seen how it had played out time and time again.

Yet, that part of him that always loved him, always admired him, couldn’t help the surge in pride that swelled within him. Despite all the opportunities he had to walk away, he had chosen to battle it out with gods and Celestials, even if meant putting himself on the line.

Again, he thought of Susan. Perhaps, she had come to see that her husband was still a hero trying to do what was best for his family.

Perhaps, Reed had admitted to his loving wife that he was afraid.

 _If only Tony had done that_ , thought Steve.

 

_“We’re completely different people, Steve” said Tony. He was calm but spoke with an assuredness Steve had come to associate with the stages of planning Tony undertook once an idea took hold. Once it wedged itself in the spaces between the axions in his brain. Synapse._

_He was confident in his assertion. They_ were _different._

_Tony was leaning his head against his arms, crossed behind him. His feet were resting on the desk, crossed at the ankles. He was seemingly at ease. It could have been the middle of the afternoon, and yet, it was the middle of the night. Steve hadn’t slept well that night. Hadn’t minded the interruption._

_It would be a long time before he knew why those dreams taunted him; gases rushing to the top of a sealed bottle with no place to go. No release._

_Why didn’t he see it for what it was: a clever diversion? Perhaps, he had thought them more alike than they truly were._

_Tony continued. “So, we approach these things in completely different ways. In this case, the idea at hand: expansion.”_

_Thinking back on it now, it had seemed so simple. Too simple._

_Steve walked to stand beside him. The mug of coffee in his hand too hot to drink. There was steam rising from the top. He’d let it cool before taking a sip. Tony enjoyed his coffee scalding hot. He used it to warm his body when he was cold. It revitalized his senses._

_“Necessary expansion, but go on,” said Steve._

_“So, knowing you like I do, you’ll see this as a state of mind. An attitude to be adopted and spread to others through words invoking deeds. Saying things like ‘Greater threats mean greater needs.’”_

It was all a lie.

_“Fair enough, Tony. I’ll admit to that.”_

Why couldn’t you?

_“And I’m safe assuming you see this as a math problem,” said Steve. Tony smiled, and turned to face him, still lounging on his chair. Very much at home before his screens._

_He was tired. Looking back, it was obvious there was something nagging at him. Something eating at him from the inside. He had dismissed it, then. Tony was a chronic insomniac. If he looked tired in the middle of the night, as he explained a new plan he had formulated, who was to say there was anything amiss?_

_“An engineering one, actually – we’re tearing down what we had and building a new machine to achieve our expanded goals,” explained Tony. He had turned in his seat, his eyes on Steve’s as he spoke, calmly._

_“And that’s what this is,” said Steve. It was a question stated as fact. Why else would Tony have explained it in such a way?_

_“Yes,” said Tony. “Some useful pieces of the old organization will survive. A limited roster until need demands more. Call it a foundation.”_

Steve thought of the rocky cliff and the unyielding sea below. Every day, with the incoming tide, the waves kept pushing against the rock; unseating its foundation. Perched on the cliff, he knew it would fall. The view, the feeling – it all compelled him to stay. It kept him in place.

It was a beautiful disaster waiting to happen and when it did, it would catch him off guard.

 

“His relationships, his morality, his ethics,” explained Reed. “These are highly adaptable. Malleable to what he would call the greater good of humanity’s necessary survival and undeniable progress.”

Reed held out a device for Steve to grab. “What is this,” he asked.

“It’s Tony in a nutshell,” said Reed, as if that explained anything. As if the peculiar object in his hand offered any sort of clue. _Geniuses and their riddles_ , thought Steve, growing annoyed.

“It’s fractional, but I am smarter than he is” said Reed. He turned to face Steve, who stood before him, unyielding. Stoic.

Reed chose his next words carefully. “However, I tend to be single-minded: one problem, one solution. Mr. Stark, on the other hand, is the world’s greatest multitasker. He can focus on one problem – say, the end of our universe – and at the same time, work on another.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the dialogue comes from Hickman's Avengers, specifically, issues #2 and #43.


	6. Time Runs Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Time is to clock as mind is to brain. The clock or watch somehow contains the time. And yet time refuses to be bottled up like a genie stuffed in a lamp. Whether it flows as sand or turns on wheels within wheels, time escapes irretrievably, while we watch. Even when the bulbs of the hourglass shatter, when darkness withholds the shadow from the sundial, when the mainspring winds down so far that the clock hands hold still as death, time itself keeps on. The most we can hope a watch to do is mark that progress. And since time sets its own tempo, like a heartbeat or an ebb tide, timepieces don't really keep time. They just keep up with it, if they're able.” ― Dava Sobel, Longitude: The True Story of a Lone Genius Who Solved the Greatest Scientific Problem of His Time

“We got access, Steve. We’re good to go,” says Natasha, shifting her gaze from the monitors before her to the man walking in her direction. There was a hard look in his eyes, one she had seen many times before, and in the last few weeks and months, had seen more times than she could count. She knew, in some respects, he had resigned himself. They could only delay the inevitable, but they could not stop it. He wasn’t strong enough and this wasn’t a task even the strongest could accomplish. The smartest had already tried and they, too, had failed.

She couldn’t say when those eyes had turned cold and piercing, only that they had.

“Okay, launch it,” replies Steve, focusing his attention elsewhere. His attention was always elsewhere these days. The world was ending and he knew it, but he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts.

 

_“It’s staggering, really, that ability of his… I remember when he’d finished this. It was the same week we’d finalized some other multiversal enhancements to the bridge. Not an easy thing to do._

_“While we’d been working on that, he’d created, installed, and perfected an automated control system for the planet killer we’d captured back during the Builder War._

_“He’s just not like us, Steve. He’s not.”_

 

“It’s over. We’re done,” says Steve to everyone and no one.

 

_Steve sat down, opposite Tony, who was reviewing the menu in his hands, in between bites of French toast. He made no attempt to move when Steve approached their booth. Didn’t turn to look at him, didn’t meet his eyes. Just keep peering at the menu as if it would tell him the secrets of the universe. As if it held the key to his problems and staring intently would reveal it._

_“I thought you told me a long time ago that you couldn’t eat before a big to-do,” said Steve, perplexed. “Nervous stomach, or something like that. And it’s lunchtime. And you’re eating French toast.”_

_Tony smiled, lowering the menu, and glancing at Steve above its laminated edges. “Well, one,” he said, holding up a finger, “I’m not nervous. And two,” he said, adding another, “they say it’s the most important meal of the day.”_

_He dropped his hand and went back to holding the menu with one hand, while taking a bite with the other.  The menu obscured part of his face. He paused, for a moment, before adding, “You should order something.”_ Or, you could let me order something for you, old man. I know what you love.

 _Though he kept glancing at the menu absentmindedly, he couldn’t take his eyes off Steve, now that he was seated before him. It had been so long since he’d had this thought:_ you’re real _._

_It had been awhile since they’d met. Things hadn’t progressed much in the intervening weeks and slowly but at once, those weeks had turned to months. Tony was still a wanted man and Steve was very much in charge of his capture. He didn’t have to turn his head to know SHIELD agents were outside waiting by a quinjet. He had expected it and nothing less._

_Tony and the others worked on ways of staving off the end. Steve disproved of their methods. He wasted no time targeting them. Those who questioned his vendetta, left. Jessica and Natasha had been among those deserters. The remaining ones followed through with his requests._

_Tony couldn’t say he blamed them for their actions. His were no less egregious. Everyone knew that. Steve had every reason to hate him. He hated himself, too._

_Yet, there were more important things to worry about, thought Tony._ The end is nigh and all you can think of is me, Steve. Isn’t that it?

_They’d shared so many meals together, in lavish hotels, discreet safehouses, and diners across the continent. They’d laughed over silly jokes, planned their escape, and marveled at the changing landscape as they traveled across the U.S. But those days were long gone._

_There wouldn’t be any of that during this conversation. This was strictly business._

_Surely, Steve was still angry with him. Tony needn’t ask such obvious things. Last time they’d seen each other, he’d left Tony in a transparent cage, crying._

_The others had been so worried. Had wondered what would happen when Steve arrived in Wakanda and laid his eyes on him. They needn’t have worried. The end was still coming, but that wasn’t it._

_Today, he wouldn’t cry though. There was nothing left of their relationship, strained as it had been in the last few years. There was a time for regret, and surely, he felt it. But it was of no use to him now._

_No use crying over spilled milk that had curdled._

_“Tony, why are we here,” said Steve, exasperated. He had hundreds of things to do, countless place to be, and the longer this conversation dragged on, the more he’d have upon his plate when he returned to his duties._

_If for a moment he lamented the fact that, at one point, his duty had been to the man before him, he didn’t say anything. Nor did he act on it._

_It was then their server started approaching. Steve saw her out of the corner of his eye seconds before Tony did. He was always aware of his surroundings, part of it was paranoia, part of it was growing up and coming into his own in the public eye._

_Steve thought he recognized her, but that couldn’t be true. He hadn’t been to this diner ever before. He had met so many people in his long life, though his eidetic memory made it difficult to forget a face, even if he had only glanced at them for a fleeting second. Her dark, kinky curls bounced as she walked, notebook and pen in hand._

_Just before she was within earshot, Tony said, “We’re going to break bread, Steve.”_

_Steve glared at him, but Tony’s attention was on the server walking toward them. He had dropped his fork onto the plate, giving her his full attention._

_He lowered his voice, his tone not indicative of any feelings whatsoever. “Then I’m going to talk. You’re going to listen. I’m going to convince you why I’m right and then...you’re going to forgive me for not doing a better job the first time._

_Before Steve could object, Tony added, “So please, order something.”_

_“What can I get you, sir,” she asked. Tony smiled, a true smile. He let it reach his eyes. It made him look younger than he had in months. He was always so friendly to servers and bartenders. Before he could answer, she had said, “Cook makes a mean burger – I’m kind of partial to the shrimp and grits. But honestly, most everything is good. Do yourself a favor though, and don’t overdo it – you’ll want to leave room for dessert. The pie is to die for.”_

_“Really, I’m fine,” said Steve, looking directly at Tony._

_Tony still had his eyes on the server._

_Tony, still smiling, simply said, “Nonsense, he’ll have the burger.”_

_She nodded and made her way back to the counter. Steve crossed his arms on the table. Tony finally turned to face him, the humor and charisma with which he had met the server gone. It was back to business. This was a business meeting._

_“So…can I talk for a bit? Will you promise you’ll listen?”_

_He took another bite, there was still a lot left on his plate. Steve knew he was eating slowly, waiting for Steve’s food to arrive. He was also dragging out this conversation. Steve’s patience was wearing thin. That had been true for months now, possibly years. Had he grown bitter in his old age? He still looked very much the same but time was no kinder to them than it had been to anyone else on this earth._

_“The only thing I’ll promise,” said Steve, “is that when we’re done here, you’re coming back with me.”_

_Tony took another bite and chewed slowly though his eyes crinkled in the afternoon light. “There was a time that would mean something very different than what it does now. Context and connotation sure are something, aren’t they?”_

_Steve glared at him, which only made Tony smile even more. “Oh, lighten up, Steve.”_

_“You don’t realize how all of this has been perceived,” said Steve, visibly annoyed. It was just like Tony to take a serious discussion and turn it on its head. A part of him would always want what they could have had, what they thought they had in those stolen moments…back in Seattle, before the War._

_But Tony had made sure that’s all they were: stolen moments that were never meant to be theirs to keep; to have and to hold._

_They were deliberately ignoring the elephant in the room. The light pouring in through the windows landed on his left hand. It gave him pause…_ How dare…

_He had the audacity to wear that ring, thought Steve._

Never mind that now. Get to the point.

_He could feel his against his chest under his suit. He’d never tell him that, though… Just let him think he had stopped wearing it._

Focus, Steven.

_“The President, other world leaders, the entire UN… They’re ready to act, and I have no idea what they’re going to do.”_

_The worry had started creeping into his voice, but he couldn’t help it. Tony had caught him off guard with his asinine comment._

Keep it together, Rogers.

_Everything was a game to him. Of course, he had said that knowing it would distract him, throw him off guard, lower his defenses._

_Everything was a calculated move. He should’ve seen it coming. What good was a strategist who couldn’t anticipate his opponent’s next move?_

_When did he start thinking of him as an opponent?_

_“The entire UN… It’s a wonder I can sleep at night,” said Tony, looking down at his plate, fiddling with his fork. Surely, his eggs were cold by now._

_“I don’t get it,” said Steve, anger rising. “You plan for everything, so why won’t you consider what it means if you fail?” It was such a simple question. Nothing was infallible. They were living proof._

_“This is the part you can’t seem to get through your head, Steve.”_

_He took a sip from his neglected glass of water. The ice had melted, the condensation had pooled around the bottom, wetting the napkin it was on. As he raised the glass to his lips, droplets trickled onto his plate, but he didn’t seem to care. Steve couldn’t help but feel as if the world had stopped, as if time had stood still. Nothing between them but the hurt, the memories… The could be washed away. They could fade._

_“I have thought about it, Steve. If we fail, then everything dies. How can you still not understand that?” He lowered the glass, placing it on the wet napkin, but not before smoothing it out. Smoothing the wrinkles in space-time. Reminding Steve that everything he did, he did with the utmost care._

You broke my heart slowly, over time. In ways I hadn’t thought possible when I first woke up to your voice. You’ve devastated me, Anthony, and I don’t know if you know all the ways in which you’ve ruined me.

_“Why are we divided, when Namor and his band of monsters are out there doing God knows what?”_

_Questioningly, Steve looked at him, as if seeing him for the first time. “Those monsters are doing the exact same thing you were doing. What happened to you?”_ What happened to us _, he wanted to add, but didn’t._

_Just then, their server returned. She placed the platter of food before him and he thanked her. It looked delectable and despite everything, he was hungry._

_“So, that’s it, Steve. Isn’t it? The very heart of it… You really do think I’m a bad guy.” Tony sounded resigned with none of his usual bravado._

_His palms were lying flat against the seat. It was so strange, to see him talking without gesturing._

_“You really do think that your husband is gone – lost. Replaced by whatever I am now.” He ran his hands up his thighs, pushed his plate forward, and crossed his arms on the table._

_“You should take a closer look at the kind lady who has brought you your food,” he added at the last moment, taking one last bite, before pushing his plate to the corner of the table. Gesturing toward the server who approached him that he would eat no more._

_“Why would…” said Steve, pausing. She came back into view. This time, he studied her face, and at once, it clicked into place. He did know her. Why hadn’t he seen it before? “Huh, I didn’t recognize…”_

_She looked down at him, puzzled. He had been studying her features after all. “Is that you, Tamara,” he asked._

_“Yes, I’m Tamara. Have we met?” She took Tony’s plate in her hand, putting away the pen and notebook she had been holding, digging them into the pocket of her apron._

_“Of course, we have. Why else would you know my name?” She laughed and quickly composed herself. “You’ll have to forgive me. I had an accident and my memory…”_

_She trailed off, looking behind her, to the girl sitting at the barstool. She had dark, kinky hair just like her mother. “My sweet daughter has to remind me of all kinds of things all the time.”_

_Steve knew what that was like. He wouldn’t wish that on his worst enemy. He had seen enough people struggle to recall thoughts they no longer held. Struggle to recall what was real or implanted._

_He thought of Carol and Wanda, first and foremost, and the tragedies that had struck them._

_He thought of Bucky and Natasha and the pain they suffered._

_“No miracle under the sun quite as special as someone looking out for you.”_

_He thought of Tony, back in Oklahoma, pouring over articles chronicling Steve’s death on those courthouse steps. He remembered the sound of his shallow breaths against his chest as he cried. It had seemed so long ago just moments before. Tony couldn’t know what he was thinking, but when he glanced at him, he was already staring at him, lost in thought._

_This life had been hard on all of them, at some point or another._

_Steve turned back to Tamara, then turned back to Tony. “You found her daughter.”_

_“I did,” said Tony, smiling. “Wasn’t that monstrous?”_

_“No, it wasn’t. It’s the kind of thing that used to blow me away. Billionaire sweating the small stuff.” He thought back to all those times Tony had been overly kind and generous for no other reason than he enjoyed brightening people’s day, enjoyed making the world a better, safer, happier place. He had fallen in love with that man, nearly a decade ago. It was jarring to see what had become of them in the years that had elapsed._

_“The important things…” He paused. “Are we really going to find some way out of this, Tony?”_

_“I know we can.”_

He always makes it sound so simple.

“We’re as shielded as we’re going to get. Are you sure you want to do this?” They said to him, over the intercom. He could hear the doubt in their voices.

He sighed and spoke. “What choice do I have?”

Little has changed; if they don’t act now, the descending armada will decimate them. Even if they do act now, the impending incursion will end them. There’s no use sweating the small things anymore, even if at one point in time, there had been reason enough.

He thought back to that afternoon he and Steve had tried to settle their differences. He tried to make him see things the way he saw them, but then, he had spent most of his adult life doing just that. He had never succeeded.

He didn’t wear failure well. It overwhelmed him and his desire for perfection, for resolution, for closure. If only he were lucky enough for even that. First, it had been his parents. Then, it had been Yinsen. Later, it had been Rumiko, whose senseless death he never forgot.

At one point, it had been Steve, though he didn’t remember those months. Didn’t remember anything before his return.

He told himself they didn’t matter. They and all those memories were meaningless. Soon, everything would be over and nothing would have mattered.

He had been alone for quite some time now. After his last encounter with Steve, he had isolated himself.

Now, at the controls, he was alone with his thoughts and the weight of his actions, bearing down on him, trapping him in the here and now.

“They were going to do the same to us. These are all the choices we have left – bad ones. I’m cycling on Sol’s Hammer. Pushing it as far as it will go…”

He switched off his communicator and sat with his hands folded, elbows resting on the desk.

_I told myself I would never build weapons again. For the last year, that’s all I’ve done. I had forgotten just how good I was at it._

_Talent is talent and if you have a gift, it’s impossible to hide it. If I’m telling the truth, I’m not even trying to hide it anymore._

_Steve thought I was a monster then, but little does he know, I’ve been a monster all along._

 

Reed, standing before them, speaks. “So, the plan – if you call mitigating a defeat a plan – is to save what we can.” He turns, and looks at his wife, standing by his side.

Steve kept his hands in his pockets. He kept his breathing even. He knew they needed to discuss this, if only to lay out all the reasons why this was a mistake.

Thus far, they agreed on this course of action. They had no other recourse. The world was ending. But he would put his foot down if anyone so much as implied what he thought they’d imply.

It may have hurt him once to feel this way or think this about him.

“We have a vessel theoretically capable of surviving the collapse. We’re finalizing the manifest now. I think we’re going to get all the right scientists and engineers we need to restart humanity. I wish there was more,” he adds, clumsily, “but…”

Steve cuts him off, not even meaning to do so. The others turn to face him as he speaks. “At least it’s something. But I want to be clear about one thing.”

The silence was palpable. They knew what he was going to say.

“This isn’t an escape for you people,” says Steve, glaring at Reed.

Sue, apologetic, says, in turn, “I understand how you feel, Steve. But there’s no getting around the fact that some of the Illuminati are going…”

He knew she didn’t just mean her husband, though her stance implies that as well. She pushes her hair out of her face, and leans on the table in front of them, her hands splayed on its plain surface. “Banner knows he’s a risk, so he’s taken himself out. Braddock’s bowed out as well, and Pym’s unstable but the rest have value.”

 _Value_. All lives, inherently, had value. But they had decided to play God, relinquishing any value their lives may have had.

_You don’t get to play at being a god, Anthony. None of you do._

Surely, they understood that, and yet, here there were advocating for absolution.

Not under his watch.

“That makes sense, Sue," chimes in Carol. "The smarts are one thing, but there should be some protection on board as well. The Illuminati fit that bill, but you do know the problem here, right?”

“Tony,” says Reed, knowingly. It was the same tone he had used when speaking to Steve before.

“You don’t have to concern yourself with that,” adds Beast, speaking up for the first time since this conversation started. “Mr. Stark has done more than –”

Reed cuts him off, quickly adding, “There’s no one – absolutely no one – who can do the things he does. If we’re talking about building, well, then we should be taking our best builder.”

Jim clears his throat, drawing in their attention. Thus far, he had been quiet, listening intently as they discussed their options. “No one here loves the guy like I do." He meets Steve’s piercing gaze. In turn, Steve angles himself to meet his warm, brown eyes, unwavering in their determination.  

“I think the question you have to ask is: is he really the guy we once knew? Or the person we know now?”

The silence that gripped the room was palpable. It spoke volumes.

“I don’t think we can gamble with putting the second one on that boat,” says Jim. There's a finality to it; an unspoken understanding. If he were here, Tony, himself, would agree with them.

Sue sighs and reaches for her husband, gently placing her hand on his shoulder. _Fight a different battle_ , she says to him, with only a gesture. “I’m sorry, dear,” she adds, softly. “I have to agree with Jim – it’s a bad idea.”

“It’s not just a bad idea," cut Steve. “It’s not going to happen even if it was a good one.” The anger was edging closer and closer to the surface. Magma bubbling to the surface.

“Pick another battle, Reed.” _You’re not winning this one and it’s not worth trying to fight_ , he wants to add, but stops himself.

It was sardonic. He had once asked if a battle, a war was worth it. A different genius had, in turn, responded with a jeer. Leering at him from behind the eye slits in his helmet. He had walked away, a powerful man. In control of both their destinies.

When given the chance to start anew, he had squandered it.

_Now, he must reap what he sowed. Surely, he knew this was the price for selling his soul to the highest bidder._

“Do we understand each other.”

His voice carries across the wide, open room. It was the voice he had used during the war, when they raided enemy compounds. It was the voice he had used to command the Avengers, time after time, throughout the years, and its changing roster. It was the voice he used to dictate orders to his officers, aboard the Helicarrier.

Once upon the time, it had been the voice he’d used to order Tony, in those intimate moments when obeying him was the only thing on his mind. When pleasing his master was all he craved. The adoration and affection he wanted and needed coming on the heels of a task well done.

He wouldn’t think of that now. That was years ago.

 

_Tony crawling across the floor to kneel before him, needy and wanting. Beautiful and debauched._

_His hands chained behind his back. His olive skin, flushed and glistening with sweat. His matted hair curling at the nape._

_He looked so eager to please, so ready to acquiesce. His submission was always a sight to behold, a rare gift he treasured._

_“Yes, master,” he panted as Steve touched his cheek, tilting his jaw up._

“Fine,” says Reed, pulling him out of his reverie.

“Then, that’s settled,” he says to all before him. Turning to Rhodey, he adds, “You have your thing to do and I have mine.”

Rhodey eyes him, curiously. He's questioning. “You sure this is how someone should spend their last few hours, Steve?”

“Let me worry about that, Rhodey,” he says, meeting the other man's gaze. His jaw was set. He was determined to do this. “Now, tell me, can you find him?”

 

“Proximity alert, Mr. Stark. Multiple War Machine drones detected. And bad news, they’re hard-shielded against primary overrides and they have friendly access codes.”

“And what about the other thing,” says Tony, waiting for the ball to drop.

“Final incursion will begin in four minutes, sir.”

“Super,” says Tony, devoid of emotion. _Just what I needed_.

He calls the armor to him, letting it engulf him, enveloping him in black and gold metal. 

“A single War Machine entered the building, Mr. Stark. Headed this way.”

He stands at the ready, turning to face the intruder. He had half-expected someone to barge in, to demand something from him at the eleventh hour. For whatever reason, he hadn't expected this. Someone unlocking the door and making himself at home. 

“So…you too, Rhodey? It’s not like we go way back or anything.” Tony turns to face him, surprised by the visage he sees before him. He doesn't let the shock he feels show.

“I’m not Rhodey,” says Steve.

“Time to settle up, Tony. Everyone’s telling me it’s the end of the world…. Well, there’s one last thing I’m going to do before that happens.”

Tony laughs, shaking with mirth. “You? In armor I designed? It’s never going to happen, Steve.”

He’s already taken stock of the armor he's wearing and the weapons he possesses, but he knew Steve wouldn’t use those against him. He knew Steve would pummel him into the sidewalk with his fists. It had happened once before; he’d seen the footage. They were still together then. Still trying to find a way to express themselves.

It was a fruitless quest. They hadn’t figured it out in the years since and now, they were out of time.

“You need to wake up,” he adds. One last jeer.

_You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?_

_“What did you say?” Steve rubbed at his eyes._

_“Wake up, old man. I haven’t been able to sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about something you said, and well, I’ve been busy. I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”_

_Steve sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, at the edge of the bed. Tony watched the way his muscles moved in the dim light pouring through the open door. Steve rubbed at his temples._

_“It’s fine, Tony. I’m grateful.”_

_“Bad dreams?” He sounded concerned._

_“Something like that,” said Steve in response, turning to face his husband, standing by the door. The RT in his chest glowing brightly._ My starlight _._

_It would be so easy to throw him out the window and beat him to a pulp_ , thinks Steve. But he isn’t here for that. That course of action had never yielded anything worth his while. Besides, he was running out of time.

“After all this time, haven’t you figured it out,” he says, moving closer. Standing before him, close enough to have feel his breath ghosting across his skin were he out of his suit.

“The machine,” he says, looking him dead in the eyes, “is just a tool. It’s the quality of the man inside that matters.”

Tony turns in place, overlooking the city below. Steve, who knew him intimately, in all those ways Tony had once feared, knew just how expressive he could be in the suit. It was no different now.

He sounds exasperated, speaking as if the air couldn't leave him fast enough. As if the preceding months had finally taken a toll on him. “Do you have any idea how tired I am of you reminding me how much better than all of us you are? My God, Steven," he says, running a gauntleted hand down his face. "I lived with you. I worked with you. And all this time, I’ve been in your shadow, trying to measure up to you. You don’t think I know who I am? You don’t think I know who you are?”

“Well, you may know who you are but I don’t. Not anymore, Anthony. And I don’t think I want to… You and I, we’re through.”

Tony leans his gauntleted hand on the glass.

“You know… I told you this once before, but maybe you didn’t believe me. Maybe the events that transpired after the fact clouded that moment for you, but well… The day we found you in the ice. Jan, Hank, Thor, and I… That was the best day of my life. I remember everything about that day. Sure, the Avengers had been a team before then. But with you… We started something that mattered. Because of you, the world changed. I changed.”

He turns to face Steve, the faceplate retracting into the helmet.

“Everything’s changed,” says Steve meeting his gaze.

Tony has always had darker eyes than his; a true blue. The color of the ocean far from land. He's lost himself in those eyes so many times. Anger ran through him still, but the bubbling magma was cooling.

No longer were his words pyroclastic flows.

“You knew, didn’t you? This idea didn’t just…dawn on you one night,” he says, more calmly than he had thought possible when he first arrived.

He moves to stand closer to Tony, still keeping his distance, still untrusting. He puts his shield back in its place, behind his back, but he doesn’t move to take off the armor.

“You knew it was a lie. You knew there was no stopping this. You had us running around in circles. For what?”

“I knew there was a good chance we couldn’t. It was too big, too much, and we were not enough. But we needed to try.”

With every passing second, the sky grew darker. First turning pink, and then progressively more and more red. It was beautiful. In that way dangerous things always were. He knew there wasn’t much time left.

“You would have thought one of the others would have noticed, but they were either distracted by other things or, in Reed’s case… Well, the man runs on hope. He lives every day in denial.”

“I want to hear you say it, Anthony. I want to hear you say you lied. You lied to my face. I lived with you, Anthony. We shared the same roof, the same bed, and you lied to me. And not just that, but you knew the whole time and you told no one.”

“I know,” says Tony. The pieces of the armor flying off. Leaving him standing in his work clothes. _Bare_.

“I know. But I wouldn’t change anything, Steve. I’m sorry but that’s the truth and I’m sure, that’s not what you wanted to hear.”

“I wanted to hear the truth,” says Steve. The conversation was shifting, changing.  

“I’m sure, old man, but not this truth. You wanted to hear my devious plans for stopping the impending apocalypse, but I’m only one person. I couldn’t stave off the end any more than all of us could, together. Some things…are just not possible.”

Steve looks at him incredulously.

“I… I have spent so much of my time designing, building, augmenting, and retrofitting impossible creations. Futuristic things people chalked up to science fiction. If anyone had figured out a way to do the impossible, to will it into being, it was me. I know this about myself and you do, too. But this… This was a fool’s errand. And I have been a fool.”

He sits down, leaning against the glass. Steve follows his lead, resting his head against the glass. Listening to Tony talk, for the first time since their meeting in that diner.

“I love you. I have loved you for years. I will continue to love you. That much has never changed. The world around us has. We have… In some subtle and some obvious ways. But my love for you is unwavering. It’s just…impossible. We were… We were never meant to be, Steve,” he admits, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“You’re the man out of time and I… I shouldn’t have been born.”

Steve doesn't move a muscle. He makes no effort to move any closer. He sits, transfixed.

He couldn't speak. Instead, lets the silence – punctuated by Tony’s quiet gasps for breath – fill his ears. The world is ending and he is sitting across from the man he has loved and hated in equal measure for years and he has no idea how to comfort him.

It should’ve been easy. _Simple_.

Finally, he reaches out to touch him, to hold his hand in his. It was a small comfort but it was the end of the world, after all. He could have this. They could have this. This fleeting moment.

“I, too, have loved you for years, but you shouldn’t say that. The world needs an Iron Man and I need you, Shellhead.”

Tony shakes his head. The nickname – a kindness he hasn’t earned – brings with it, even more tears. He lets them fall, and Steve watches. His husband trembling before him. _I used to take your apart in a different way. What changed?_

He squeezes his hand, but not too tightly. Just enough; enough to remind Tony of his presence.

“We’re out of time, Steve. We’re never going to get the happy ending we want. I’m not… I’m not even religious or superstitious or any of that, but even I know this is true.”

Steve pulls away for a moment and Tony visibly stiffens before it dawns on him. Steve's only trying to take off the armor. He isn't leaving, he isn't going anywhere. Whatever it is they're doing, he's here to the end.

A practiced veteran, he unfastens the releases expertly, slowly placing the various pieces on the floor beside them. When he's finished, he scoots closer and brings Tony to him. Running his hands through his hair as Tony cries into his shirt, nestled between his shoulder and neck, where he could breathe in his scent.

Tony feels him trying to pull out something… Something from underneath his collar, so he moves to the side.

He feels Tony’s gasps milliseconds before he hears them.

“You… You still… I haven’t seen you… It’s been years since you last wore it. I thought… I thought…”

“I don’t know if I could ever forgive you. I don’t know you if we could ever go back to the way things were… You’ve lied to me too many times. You’ve broken my trust. But…”

Tony covers his mouth with his finger, silencing him. “Don’t. Don’t ruin it.”

Steve could feel the cold metal against his lower lip. He doesn't say anything else, doesn't ruin the moment.

They sit there, huddled in each other’s arms, watching the other earth come into view. At some point, Tony stops crying, though his breathing remains labored, uneven. He turns to look out the window. His head, still resting against his shoulder. Steve runs his hand down his shoulders, across his back, as the other played with his hair, tugging on his curls.

He wishes they could go back.

He wishes they could start over.

 

Moments before the end, an orange gem manifests itself before them. Steve holds out his palm. Tony turns, his eyes widening when he sees it. Recognizing the familiar glow in the palm of Steve’s hand.

“I… I didn’t think… I’ve already used the gem once. When it appeared in your lab… The last time we had a fight.”

Tony nods. He hasn’t forgotten.

Behind them, the sky blackens. The end is upon them. They only have a few more moments. If they were going to decide, they had precious few minutes left.

“If I close my palm, I don’t know where it’ll take us.”

“Does it really matter?”

Steve looks down at him and, over the top of his head, looks out at the city below. He had known this city in two different centuries, having been born into a completely different era. Everything happening now would’ve sounded impossible to his ears then. In many ways, it was still impossible.

He had woken up in the future, hadn’t known a soul. But he had found someone.

If this was their last chance, would he waste it?

“No… I guess it doesn’t.”

 

They close their eyes as their intertwined palms close around the orange gem. In that same moment, darkness envelopes the city, one last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things to note: I'm ignoring everything that happens in Axis and Superior Iron Man. 
> 
> The timeline of events is that Steve and Tony's confrontation in the first chapter takes place before the events in the diner, both of which take place after Steve's regained his memories -- the ones Stephen deleted. 
> 
> In canon, T'Challa and the others let Tony go free before Steve's arrival in Wakanda. I've changed that. Steve arrives in Wakanda instead asking to speak to Tony alone. That's the conversation they have in the first chapter.
> 
> Avengers/New Avengers has a rather messy timeline spanning about two or three years between the Illuminati gathering to learn about the incursions from Reed and Black Swan, to Steve's memories being wiped by Stephen, to the Builder War, to the fragmentation of the Avengers team Steve and Tony put together, to the Shi'ar armada descending upon earth, which is what Steve's recalling when he goes to confront Tony one last time during the last hour. From there, it diverges.

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to follow me on [Tumblr](http://viudanegraaa.tumblr.com).


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